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Posts Tagged ‘tattoo’

Last night Cara and I went to get tattoos. I had a tat I wanted back in April, but Jesus asked me to wait until He said yes. I got the yes two weeks ago, made a consultation appointment last week, and went last night.

Now for some background. Late December 2010, Jesus told me that this would be the year of truth. It came in a funny way, seeing a sign in a bar in a movie, in Russian. Since I speak and read some Russian, I was able to understand that it was transliterated “pravda,” the Russian word for truth. Jesus says He is the truth, and He’s been showing me some deep and deeply painful things this year.

Yeah, it’s been painful. I can’t say that I’ve ever done anything more difficult, but it’s been so, so awesome as well. I love this process and will be sad to see this year end. I anticipate that I’ll ask Jesus to give me a name for 2012, too. It’s just so cool to know, at least in broadbrush, what God wants to teach you in a year’s time!

So back to the tattoo. We got started with mine at like 8:45 and were paid and headed home by 9, but here are a few pictures of that painful 15 minute interlude.

Getting started

Trying unsuccessfully to find my happy place.

Truth forever etched into my skin

 

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Fresh Ink

Coming tomorrow. Until then, I think this sums up why I have tattoos.

Try telling the boy who’s just had his girlfriend’s name
cut into his arm that there’s slippage between the signifier
and the signified. Or better yet explain to the girl
who watched in the mirror as the tattoo artist stitched
the word for her father’s name (on earth as in heaven)
across her back that words aren’t made of flesh and blood,
that they don’t bite the skin. Language is the animal
we’ve trained to pick up the scent of meaning. It’s why
when the boy hears his father yelling at the door
he sends the dog that he’s kept hungry, that he’s kicked,
then loved, to attack the man, to show him that every word
has a consequence, that language, when used right, hurts.

—Todd Davis

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I Am

Almost two years ago I got the above tattoo. I Am is my favorite name of God, and has been since the very first days of my faith.

While other names of God appeal to me, this one keeps me coming back to His feet, and I can see why. It’s a statement of His existence. It’s a name of mystery. It’s a profound answer to so many questions. It resonates in a deep bass when the emptiness swirls around me. I Am. All-sufficient.

But on this journey into self, deciding and deciphering who I am, I Am. Because He Is, I am. We have the same name, and I’m reminded of that fact. As my name is engraved into the palms of His hands, His name is carved permanently into my flesh. I’m learning to breathe those words, use them as a touchstone when I quake with fear, am overwhelmed by doubt.

Every time we make a statement about who we are, we use the name of God. Perhaps this is because He wants us to remember who we were created to be, to speak truth when speaking about our identities.

I am here.

I am His.

I am loved.

I am safe.

I am a thousand other things I’m too afraid to own or too dull to comprehend.

Still and although, I am.

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